


The Stairs

by TheRealFailWhale



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Fluff, Season/Series 06, living is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 14:23:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20836955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealFailWhale/pseuds/TheRealFailWhale
Summary: depressed Buffy and comforting Spike





	The Stairs

Buffy returned from patrol late enough that the others were in bed. She stood in the entryway for a minute...then five minutes...then ten. All the while staring at the stairs and telling herself that the sooner she climbed them, the sooner she could be in bed. But the stairs looked so. hard. It would be impossible to get to the top without stopping on the way. Her body was too heavy to make it in one go.

With effort, Buffy climbed the first step. It was the hardest. Her body sagged even as she raised her foot. 

“Oh my god. How am I supposed to do this,” she breathed quietly. She stood on the step and stared up at the rest of the stairs. She knew there weren’t that many. She could see the top. It would end. But just... _ getting _ there felt impossible.

“Come on, Slayer,” she muttered, and took two more steps. These were easier, in a way. Once she’d taken one she had momentum to take the next. But she paused again and let herself lean against the wall. Her urge to sit down right where she was and just  _ stop _ was so strong, but she didn’t want the others to find her like that. Better to curl up in bed and pretend she wasn’t there.

With a groan of effort, she heaved herself forward and took the next eight steps. She was so close now. Just a few more and then it was just a hallway between herself and bed. Here we go. She climbed the remaining steps and sighed in relief, allowing gravity to reassert itself. She wouldn’t challenge it again today. In fact she would welcome it when she let it sweep her into her blankets.

Buffy dragged her feet down the hall to the bathroom door. Now was the time, otherwise she’d have to get up later, and she would really rather not. She used the bathroom, brought her hands up to wash her face and dried it. 

“Sorry, gravity,” she murmured. “I promise, no more lifting.”

She let the weight inside her pull her forward to her room. It wanted to be closer to the ground, because even standing felt hard. It was hard, but the prospect of bed was so enticing that she slowly removed her jacket, jeans, and boots before falling into her bed. Glancing up, she saw with relief that her blinds were still shut tight. The sun would not bother her when it rose in a few hours. She could lie there in the dark and stare at the ceiling without the light of day pestering her to get up, to eat food, to train, to help Dawn with school. It would not mock her for staying in bed until she either was too hungry or her bladder was too insistent. The others might wonder, might gossip, that she was sleeping too much, but at the moment she really didn’t care. 

_ tap _

Buffy stared at the ceiling. Was someone tapping her window?

_ tap tap _

Buffy sighed deeply. Whoever it was could go away. She would not move.

“I know you can hear me, Slayer.”

Spike. Of course. She’d told him earlier that he could patrol with her, but when she went out she’d been too exhausted to get him. She’d hoped that he would let it go, maybe bug her about it the next night. Clearly he didn’t want to wait.

“I’m coming in.”

Still Buffy didn’t move. Let him come in. She didn’t have to talk to him. He’d get bored and go away.

Her window clattered as Spike forced it open and in her periphery she saw his hand grapple briefly with the blinds.

“Bloody--damn these stupid--” he muttered as he withdrew his hand and lifted them out of the way. Buffy dimly saw his overly blond head, but it would be too difficult to move so she didn’t. “This again,” he sighed, crawling with difficulty into her room, his long jacket catching on the ledge. “Guess I don’t need to ask why you stood me up.”

The blinds fell back into place as he stood up and stared down at her. She could see him better now, if only because he invaded her line of sight at the ceiling. She said nothing.

“You gonna stay there all day again?” Spike asked, removing his coat and flinging it across the room onto a chair. She could sort of see that he was wearing a gray sweater she’d never seen before on top of his usual jeans.

Again, Buffy responded with silence. She closed her eyes, feeling gravity pull at her chest, dragging her down.

“I’ll sit then,” Spike said at last. “Can’t let you be sad all alone, can I?”

Buffy heard him pull off his boots. The bed dipped as he settled in beside her, on top of the covers.

“You go on and sleep, Slayer,” he whispered. “No need to entertain me, I’ll occupy myself over here.”

Buffy lay there. She could hear Spike breathing. She thought she could hear him twiddling his thumbs. He’d get bored. He’d leave.

But for the next hour Spike sat there beside her while she laid with her eyes closed. Occasionally it was too much work to keep them closed and she would open them, only to stare up at the ceiling. Eventually, she turned over on her side and faced Spike. She could see the side of his jeans and the hem of his odd gray sweater.

“Where’d you get the sweater?” The words sighed out of her quietly.

“Found it,” Spike said. After a pause he admitted, “Found it on some bloke’s laundry line anyway. I mean who dries laundry outside these days? Just begging for it to get taken, in my opinion.”

Question answered, Buffy went silent again. She could see Spike’s hands in his lap, fingers laced.

With a monumental effort, Buffy pulled one of her arms out from under the blankets and laid it against Spike’s leg.

“Hold,” she whispered.

“Never a please from you,” Spike muttered. But he took her hand gently in his own. Having gotten her arm out, Buffy didn’t feel as though she could close her fingers, but Spike didn’t seem bothered by her limpness. He raised their hands and tucked them against his chest.

“Go to sleep, Slayer,” he said quietly. “You’ll be alright.”

Once more, Buffy lay there, unmoving, hand gently cradled by Spike. Gravity pulled at her and brought her down into sleep.


End file.
